


Be A Dragon

by LunaoftheBlueMoon01



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Be A Dragon, Bloodblinding, Dragon Riders, Episode Fix-It: s08e06 The Iron Throne, Episode: s08e06 The Iron Throne, F/M, House Targaryen, Minor Lyanna Stark/Rhaegar Targaryen, Past Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Targaryen Incest, Targaryen Madness, The House with the Red Door, The Iron Throne, Trueborn, Warging, Wargs, Wishful Thinking, bastard, dragon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 05:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18934333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaoftheBlueMoon01/pseuds/LunaoftheBlueMoon01
Summary: After the massacre of King's Landing. Daenerys Targaryen finally has the throne in her gasp. She had destroyed everyone in her path. Apart from one, Jon Snow the one with the power to destroy her but also make her into what she was always meant to be. A version of the throne scene from 8x06 cause I still can't get over the whole season.





	Be A Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> Hi. Whether you enjoyed the last season of the show or not, I think the Dany plot was super rushed. I've tried to marry her madness side with the Dany with seen grow over the seven previous seasons. I still hate they made her mad with no build up.

Daenerys Targaryen had known fear all her life. The fear of her brother’s hand. The fear of a shadow usurper, to know that somewhere in the world someone had wanted your death for the only crime of being born. Viserys made sure to remind her of that fear. There were no gods between the siblings, only fear and stories of the glory of their family. Of Aegon and his sister wives. Oh Balerion the Black Dread whose breath had forged the Iron Throne itself. The greatest seat in all of Westeros, forged by and for the Blood of the Dragon. 

Viserys had made her think it was some monument. In her child brain she had imagined a twisted pyramid of large dinner knives, curved over each other like silver snakes fighting for sunlight. She imagined you would have to crane your neck upward to see the King on top. How many steps were there? Hundreds, Viserys had said, although she couldn’t possibly imagine all those, at such a young age Dany could barely count past the number twenty. 

Now that she stood before it, it disappointed her wild expectations. It was smaller than she had dreamed of all these years. Had the Usurper thrown their father’s throne away too and replaced it with a smaller version? Viserys had said over and over again that the throne room was lined with the skulls of the Targaryen dragons. The House of the Undying had shown her them: Red Caraxes, Meleys, the Red Queen. Quicksilver’s charred skull was the closer to the back, a reminder to everyone the might of the dragons. The doomed Arrax with his brother Tyraxes. Their third brother Vermax had crashed to the sea with his rider, just as Rhaegal had under Cersei’s poisonous arrows. Three dragons just like her own, and that of the Conqueror and his two sisters. Vhagar, Meraxas with a large crack beside its eye and the largest skull of Balerion, Aegon’s own stead. 

She had heard that the Usurper had took them from the walls. The guilt was too much for him in the end. She wished he was still alive now, that he may have tasted her revenge and the dragon fire she would bathe him in. Although to be speared to death by a boar, holding your entails as you bleed to death seemed like a fitting end for someone who dared to test the power of the Dragon Kings. 

She mounted the steps, rumble and ash crushed under her feet. The Iron Throne itself was crowned in a thick layer of ash, it could easily have been mistaken for snow from such a distance. She paused in front of it. This was it, no more pauses or twists and side journeys. The dead were defeated and now so was her human enemies. Her men searched the burned city for any sign of the Jaime and Cersei, her former hand was secured in a store room. The Mad Kraken lay stabbed to dead on her beaches. She was sad he had not perished in Drogon’s flame, she would have to take solace in his demise either way. If she ever found the person who deliver her Euron Greyjoy’s death, he would have a lordship.

She held out her hand and slowly reached for a centuries old sword pommel. Made for a once mighty lord, now it was hers to command. Another sword to guard the weak from those who would oppress them. It was cold to her touch, and a sharp point drew a drops of blood from her finger tip.  
She could sense someone behind her, the crunch of boots of the virginal white ash. The old world blew around them, crumbled and prime for rebuild. Jon Snow, Stark, Targaryen. It matter not. She was the last true Targaryen, born of the bloodline of Old Valyria and mother to the Last Living Dragon, born amidst salt and smoke to rid the world of tyrants. He in the eyes of the world was Ned Stark’s bastard, no more. 

Still the fire lit anew in her cold blood. It could be their secret, she would be his Queen, and he her knight. Like Aemon and Naerys in the time of the Unworthy. He would liberate the North from all those who seek to oppress the people for their own gains. She would light the tyrants aflame and from their fires a new world will be build, a kinder, gentler world. She like Aegon would bring the people peace and prosperity after Fire and Blood. 

It was what her mind returned to, even with the honourable Jon Snow stood before her, looking warm in his boiled leathers. Jon had once said, Stark men do not do well in the South, perhaps it was because they insisted to wear their northern garb in the hot Southron sun. She remained on the plinth, enjoying the height distance between him. 

“My brother told me stories of this place,” she smiled as she looked upon the throne for one last time and took her descend. “It was a strange thought to such a little girl. A thousand swords of Aegon’s enemies. I couldn’t imagine such a great number, I could barely count past twenty. Do you think anyone has ever counted them?”

He was silent before her, the furrow in his blow deeper than usual. She stepped tenderly towards him, he stood so still he looked like a statue carved in his family’s crypts. He wouldn’t look at her, he even looked on the verge of tears to her. She closed the gap between them, she wanted him close to her, to feel his arms close around her. “Jon?” she whispered. 

“Those people out there. Children, little children burnt” his broke and finally his dark eyes met her. Dany’s stomach turned in a violent guilty storm, she didn’t want to think of them. Didn’t want to think of the damage she had done to them. Even now she was still haunted by the burned black bones of Hazzea. She looked into his wet shiny eyes, she thought she could see flicks of purple hidden somewhere in those cold grey Stark eyes. She had never noticed it before, but she hadn’t been looking for it before. 

When have bells meant surrender? Can you still believe Tyrion’s word after his betrayals? Cersei is the one to blame. Then the wildfire, the green flames that drove Dragon mad with fear. She wanted to say all of that. To make him see. But she didn’t, instead she said: “I tired to make peace with Cersei. But it was necessary.” 

“Necessary, I saw Grey Worm and his men killing surrendered men out there. The war is over Dany. You don’t need to do this,” he pleaded. His words stabbed her deep, we can not suffer our enemies to live, hadn’t wiser men than her said such things. “Tyrion,” he whispered. She did not know him to have great love for the Imp of House Lannister.

“He conspired again and again with our enemies. What would you have done? What have you done to those that have wronged you.” She took his face in her hands forcing him to look at her. She knew what he had done in his time at the Wall, same as he knew what she had done in Slaver’s Bay. They could not hide from each other, so there was no use pretending otherwise. Their tales and secrets laid bare between them as they naked bodies once had. 

“Forgive him. Forgive them all. Show them you are not your father.” 

“I can’t,” his words were getting on her nerves. She did not need him to make her feel like a little girl once again. “We can not hide behind small mercies. We owe it to the people of the new world not to protect this old one.” 

“This talk of old world and new world. How do you know it’ll work?” 

“I know your afraid, so was I for so many years. It’s a scary thought to imagine something that’s never been done before.” 

“A world build on mercy.” Tears rolled down his face and she brushed them away with her thumb. 

“Yes, we will build it together. It’s why I was able to hatch the dragons from stone, why you were brought back to life. It’s our destiny together. Bring your sisters to King’s Landing, together with the Lords of Westeros they will swear fealty to me and the world we will build.” A shadow crossed Jon’s face but she ignored it as he kissed her. She now had everything she had every wanted. She was home with a man who loved her and her remaining child. The woman she was today was a far cry from the one who played among the lemon trees in front of the red door.

Sharp, hot pain spread from her heart. Her mouth fell open as she looked from Jon to the small dagger biting into her feast. Everything hurt but at the same time it didn’t. Her heart was beating against the blade, as her blood and strength left her. Jon held her close to his chest, his tears landed on her cheeks and mixed with her own. Just outside the throne room, Drogon screamed so loud it shook what was left of the walls. 

“Drogon.” 

Dany’s vision went black for a few long moments. When her vision returned she was nuzzling her own dead body with a giant armoured snort. She didn’t know what kind of sorcery this was but she didn’t care as she could feel herself extend her massive wings. Jon was in front of her, his face red with tears. Inside her throat became warm as the flames peaked, they started somewhere deep inside her not far from her heart. 

Her lover’s dark eyes met her now red ones. In between stood the iron mass of swords, twisted and shaped once before in dragon fire. Dracarys. She unleashed everything she had at it. Willing the great beast’s body to create more fire, it burnt under the scales on her belly white hot and brimming with power. 

Before them, the throne wrapped and withered with her breath, it was impossible to see where one sword began and another ended as it swam in a stream of useless molten iron. If she could not have it, no one else would. She could feel the breeze brush against her wings as she allowed her natural reaction to the job for her as she took to the sky above the burned city. Olenna Tyrell had said to ‘be a dragon’ now she was and dragons know no fear from the earthly creatures below.


End file.
